


It's Still Him

by toaster_fox



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Bittersweet, Brief Description of Blood, Brief description of injury, Canonical Character Death, Dream is sad, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Memories, Reunions, Secret Relationship, promise rings, promises of marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29219436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toaster_fox/pseuds/toaster_fox
Summary: Even in death, he's still there. He still has him, and that's all he needs.aka hi, my friend gave me a prompt and i turned it into angst.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 127





	It's Still Him

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i finally got the motivation to write again. for those who are waiting for the next chapter of my runaway fic, it'll probably be a while i'm sorry.

“Can you slow down? I still get tired y’know.” Dream punctuated his words with a soft laugh, easing the embarrassment he knew Ghostbur would have. The ghost paused and responded with a chuckle, rubbing his neck as he spouted a quick apology. His words were quickly dismissed with a wave of a hand as Dream passed him, and he quickly shut his mouth with a quiet clack.

They finally settled down in a small clearing where the grass was shorter, the sunset light casting a golden glow over it. Dream sat with a relieved sigh, relishing in the harmless burn in his legs. There was a blur in the side of his vision as his companion sat beside him, barely rustling the grass with his ghostly figure. Despite his detachment from the world, Ghostbur still smiled as if he could feel the blades between his fingers and breathed in satisfaction.

Dream watched him for a moment, a familiar flutter in his chest as he lost himself in the soft features of the ghost. No matter how many years went by, the other always made him feel like a little girl with a crush. Almost like second nature, his right hand reached for his left to fiddle with the ring that rested snuggly on his finger. The golden surface reflected the fading light, mesmerizing the speedrunner.

His hands were pulled apart when a third slipped between them, pulling his left hand away. A matching ring glinted from it’s place on the pale hand, and Dream couldn’t help but smile. At the same time a sour taste formed in the back of his throat, and he blinked away the sting in his eye. They almost had everything, but the world was cruel. The ring had meant so much when Dream had given it- it still held that same importance to him, just not the same. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to fight off memories trying to swarm his mind, but it was no use.

-owo-

_Moonlight glittered upon the silent waves of the ocean, the water licking at the shore below them. Crickets chirped in the distance, the only sound in the night until Dream coughed. His companion turned to look at him, eyebrow raised curiously._

_Dream said nothing, quickly scanning over the surrounding area. Seeing no other life, he turned back to Wilbur with a mischievous smile. He leaned up and pecked the other on the lips, before going in again and pressing fully into the kiss. He felt Wilbur relax and return it a moment later, humming happily. Dream reached his hands up, burying them in the fluffy locks on his partner’s head, tugging at them teasingly. He felt Wilbur’s breath hitch and smirked._

_The kiss ended too soon for both of them, but the night was coming to an end and they both knew they couldn’t get lost in each other without risking suspicion. War still raged between their men, even when both leader’s wanted it to end. Neither wanted to betray the rest by admitting their relationship though, so they let it continue in the day while they ran off at night like rebellious teenagers. Sometimes Dream wanted to just leave completely, to whisk Wilbur away to a little cottage in a forest for just the two of them to know, to live without anxiety of being found. He never brought it up though- he knew Wilbur was already feeling guilty for betraying his men like Eret had if not worse, so Dream kept his fantasies to himself._

_Even so, he still wanted them. He dug through the bag around his waist, ignoring the confusion on Wilbur’s face. He found it adorable, the way the usually tall and intimidating man could look so adorably curious, eyes round and sparkly as they watched Dream’s hands fumble around in the leather pouch. Eventually Dream fished out a small pouch tied neatly with twine. There was a quiet clinking from inside, which only made the other look more excited and draw a chuckle from Dream. He tugged the twine, the thin rope unravelling and letting the mouth of the pouch fall open._

_Dream turned it over and two golden trinkets tumbled out into his cupped hand. He slid one onto his own finger before gently taking Wilbur’s. The ring fit perfectly, almost like fate designed his hands just for this moment. The moonlight illuminated the ring, but Dream was more focused on the beauty of his lover’s face as he smiled at the object._

_“When this is all over, me and you are gonna get married and do the things we want to without anyone stopping us.” Wilbur looked up and met his eyes, nodding in agreement. Dream smiled, grabbing Wilbur’s empty hand so they both rested in his own. The taller seemed to get the idea, swooping down to catch Dream’s lips in his own._

_When it was all over._

-owo-

_Like the unforgiving hunter that the world was, it never happened. When the war ended a new one began, and before Dream could give Wilbur one last kiss the man was forced from his arms, exiled from his own country when Schlatt took over._

_Dream cried that night. He cried for the first time in what felt like years, the painful sting in the back of his throat and the burn of tears in his eyes welcoming as the jaws of a lion. He bitterly thought it would have been better if he never gave L’Manburg independence, that if he still had power over them Wilbur would still be there to kiss him in the dark and wipe the tears from his face. If he had any power he could have stopped Schlatt before he even became a threat, he could have secured Wilbur’s safety. Regret ate him up, clawing at his stomach until he was sick and pale._

_He thought it was finally over once L’manburg had been blown up. He thought he could finally reunite properly with his lover, but when he turned to the cavern in the side of the hill he felt his heart stop. There in the center, up on a platform for everyone to see, surrounded by the last of the dust from explosions, Phil kneeled holding a bloody and dead Wilbur. The diamond sword still stuck out of his back, crimson blood dripping from the end and staining Dream’s vision. He had to hold back from screaming, from crying out for his lover one last time. His knees felt too weak to hold him, his lungs clogged and useless. He wanted to wake up, he begged to wake up. To know this was all a horrible nightmare, to wake up in Wilbur’s arms as the taller whispered comforting words in his ears._

_In that moment Dream would have given anything to hear Wilbur’s voice one last time. The way he talked was always like poetry to Dream, entrancing and artistic. It made Dream’s heart fly whenever he knew those words were for him and him only, to know he was special enough for Wilbur to write about him specifically. When he went home that night, he fell to his knees at the door. He’d never hear that velvety deep voice again, feel his soft fingers graze over his face and hold his hand._

_Laying down on the too empty bed, he hugged himself tightly and bit his lip as his shoulders trembled. With shaky breaths he mumbled the lyrics to a song, one he used to sing with Wilbur. He swears he could hear the other’s voice quietly singing along, but the bed was still cold and the pillow beside him untouched._

_He cried again that night._

-owo-

_Dream rammed his axe into the tree with a shout. His hands burned from hours of this, and for a moment he considered the possibility he had splinters. Those concerns were quickly dismissed. He could care less about what happened to him at that point. With another cry he drew his axe back and once again slammed it into the wood, the trunk toppling over and hitting the ground with a deafening crash._

_He huffed, wiping the sweat from his face. He paused when he saw a blur in his vision. Looking up, there was nothing there to have caught his eye. Confused but not sensing a threat, he shrugged it off and went about cutting the tree into more manageable pieces. He feltly weirdly calm, the feeling like a faint memory in the back of his head fighting to take over. So he let it. He forgot about the tree, sitting in the grass as his muscles relaxed and his head filled with a pleasant fuzziness._

_There was a quiet hum in the air, a bunch of familiar notes dancing in the distance. He lifted his head, squinting in confusion. It was blurry, like a dirty camera lens, but it was there- a tall figure decorated in soft yellows and blues, standing between the trees. Despite it’s sudden appearance, it radiated a peaceful aura. Phantoms of kisses and touches from the past ghosted along Dream’s skin, almost cruel and teasing yet it felt like a warm embrace._

_He blinked a few times and his vision cleared, finally able to understand whatever he was seeing. His breath caught in his throat._

_Draped in a loose yellow sweater, it felt like looking at a stranger- but at the same time it was like nothing had changed. He was pale as bed sheets and thin as a twig, the tips of his fingers and his cheeks tinted blue, but it still was_ him _. It was still him with his fluffy brown hair, him and his obnoxiously long limbs, him and his gentle eyes._

_Dream choked back a sob, stumbling to his feet like a newborn deer. He almost felt like he was walking in a dream, not nearly there enough to feel real but still caught up in the story. He tripped over himself, falling forward into warm, welcoming arms. A cry clawed its way out of his mouth and that’s all it took for him to break. Hot tears filled and blurred his vision as he buried his face in the scratchy wool of Wilbur’s sweater. It felt so empty, no heartbeat humming in his ear, the fabric like if he were only imagining it was there._

_He felt anger bubble in his stomach. This had to be a cruel joke from the universe. Wilbur couldn’t be here- he’d_ watched _Wilbur die, watched them bury his body, watched everyone move on too quickly. He silently begged to wake up, for the world to crush his hopes again already. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted to ten...twenty...thirty. When he opened his eyes he was still there, still in Wilbur’s arms, still crying._

_He clung tighter, digging his fingers into the back of his sweater. He wasn’t letting him go this time._

-owo-

His hand felt almost empty, but just the cold chill from the ghost was enough to satisfy him. He looked away from the sunset, squeezing Ghostbur’s hand to draw his attention. Faded irises of brown and blue swirls met his own green eyes, watching him with such adoration and trust it made his heart race. How’d he get so lucky to not only call this man his, but to still see him after his death?

He smiled fondly at his lover, shifting his body to face him completely. The ghost did the same, grabbing Dream’s other hand to hold both. The last of the sunlight was disappearing behind the horizon, but even in the dark Dream could see every detail of Ghostbur’s face. Every imperfection, every perfection, everything. Everything he loved, everything he memorized- he could spend an eternity looking at him.

Sometimes he wished he died, too. They could both walk the beach endlessly, two souls together in life and in death.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the other’s. He felt Ghostbur melt into the kiss as well. Dream’s fingers reached to tug gently at his partner’s curls, smiling at the familiar hitch in the man’s movement. It felt like kissing the air with the memory of a lover to fuel the feeling, but it was enough. Dead or alive, it was still Wilbur, still the man he loved with all his heart.

And god fucking dammit he would never stop loving him.


End file.
